Captured (Redone)
by Stick to one name you lil shit
Summary: England has been kidnapped by a human fling from 30 years ago. America has to find a way to save England and himself from the crazy man. Rated M because of graphic torture and rape along with some smut later.


**(A/N) So I'm restarting and fixing this story because in an effort to keep it consistently shitty I've started to hate myself. So, I'm starting over, and hoping this one will be better.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

_Pairings: USUK, Franada, PruAus, GerIta, Spamano, and RusChu. Some of them will be later, rated M for Violence/Torture._

* * *

_What am I even doing here? _America thought to himself as he lay on the large bed in English hotel room. A world meeting had been called and he'd jumped at the chance to go, even though most of the countries weren't coming because of their failing economies. And his wasn't much better, so why was he here? ___Because I'm America, and I'm the hero! __a little voice in is his head piped up, but_ another, slightly louder, voice added, ___Because I can't get England out of my head and I need to see him. _He wanted to smother himself with the pillow when he heard the second voice, but he knew that would only make him look sick.

He rolled over and pressed his face into the soft comforter. It was all bullshit. Part of the reason why he came was because he had to pretend that his economy wasn't making him physically sick. That the pollution and murder wasn't ruining his body. That the obesity epidemic wasn't affecting him. But it was, it all was. He was sick and tired, his head was always pounding, and he was overly hyper most of the time leaving him with little sleep. He would kill himself if he thought it would do him, or the country, any good.

He sighed as he rolled off the bed, pulling his bomber jacket on over his uniform and trudging to the door. Before he opened it, he slapped on the fake smile that he would have to wear until he got back to his room, then made his way outside.

As always, London was dreary. A light drizzle was falling from a dark gray sky and the air was chilled with the possibility of snow. He made it to the conference hall where the meeting was being held this time, and found that he was early. Only Russia and China were there, off to the side talking quietly, which made America a little queasy. The two of them had been plotting against him since the Cold War.

People filtered in slowly, some arriving together others just wandering in aimlessly whenever they felt like it. Prussia followed Austria into the meeting and sat with him to talk for a bit, even though he wasn't actually supposed to be there. As more of the nations arrived, the brunette steered the former country out of the room, kissing him gently before closing the door on him.

Spain and Germany arrived next with the small Italians. The North went with Germany to his seat and Spain followed the South. North Italy and Germany talked quietly and were exchanging lustful looks while Spain mooned over Romano even though he was being pushed away. Soon everyone was present, save for three; France, Canada, and England. Of course, nobody noticed the absence of America's twin, but were all buzzing about England and France.

Every country knew of the blonde Europeans' on-again-off-again relationship, as well as the rest of their history over the centuries. Therefore, most assumed that France must have stopped the car to fuck England against the windshield. But less than five minutes later they were thinking differently.

The door burst open and two soaked countries ran in, looking terrified and both with the remnants of blood on their necks. It was France and Canada. They were breathing hard and looked like they might pass out.

The former's eyes quickly scanned the room, and when he spotted America, he went straight to him. "America! It's terrible!"

"What happened?" America asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach because a certain bushy-eyebrowed man wasn't with them.

"We were at the pub, the three of us, and as we were leaving we were jumped! Both Mattieu and I had our throats slit and England was kidnapped. We were left with a message. For you."

America looked surprised for a second, but it quickly disappeared into a confident smile. "Of course it's for me. Everyone knows that America's the hero!"

France shook his head, a serious expression on his face. "It isn't addressed to America. It's addressed to 'Arthur's little brother'." He handed the letter to him. "Whoever did this wanted it to only involve you. I'm sorry." France coughed roughly and turned to leave the room, needing to rest after the run, Canada following close behind.

The rest of the countries jumped up from their seats, some running to America to see what the letter said, others rushing out behind France and Canada, not wanting to get involved with throat slitting kidnappers.

America ignored everyone as he skimmed the letter. Then he stood, walking quietly out of the room without a backward glance, leaving everyone to wonder what would happen.

* * *

When England opened his eyes he was first aware of his pounding head. Then he realized he was tied up, and completely naked. _What happened... _He was freezing from not having any clothing, and his lips were chapped. "Hello? Anyone?" he croaked out from his drying throat.

"Ah, Arthur. It's wonderful to see you again, my love," a man's voice said from behind him. That voice. He recognized it immediately, even thought he couldn't turn around and see him.

"Edgar?" His old boyfriend from thirty years before. Back when they were together, England had thought that he might be the one, even though he was a human. But they had had too many fights and misunderstandings, and he broke it off. Besides, it was hard to date a human with all his responsibilities as a country. "I don't understand. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Revenge," he said, the word slipping easily from Edgar's lips. "For leaving me. I loved you, Art. I was only nineteen, and you ripped away my first love. You."

"You didn't love me," England spat. "You loved my youth. You seemed to think that I could give you immortality. Well I can't now, nor could I ever."

"You liar!" Edgar cried. "You could have made me young like you! You did it for the Alfred boy! You made him like you!" There was fierce anger and abandonment in his eyes.

The man came forward so England could see him. The face of the boy he knew before was still there, but buried under all those years of age. Edgar now had lines arching over and around his face, there were deep bags under his eyes, his dark hair had turned silvery white, and his bright mischievous blue eyes had paled, though right now they were sparked with the fire of his anger. He looked so old, and like always, it shocked England to see someone whom he had know as a young man become elderly and lose his beauty.

For Edgar the time must have seemed to drag on forever, so it was not really surprising that he was angry enough to do this. But for England the time had been inconsequential (after thousands of years of life, a few decades seem like a few weeks). He'd actually almost forgotten about Edgar.

"I did nothing of the sort," England said, staying calm. "I found America as he is now. He was destined to become a country, that's how it works. The fact that you've grown old shows that you are not a personification, not even for a former nation." He was trying to reason with him, hoping that it would make him see that this was all pointless. "I'm sure you've heard of Prussia before. He has no land to call a country anymore, but he hasn't aged even after his country was dissolved. He may have gotten a bit crazier since he lost his land, but besides that, his body is still the same, because he was always meant to be a personification."

England's thoughts turned to the meeting now, wondering what was happening. Did they even know that he was gone? No, surely by now France and Canada had recovered and made it there to tell them. Would...America come to save him?

"So as you can see, this is ridiculous and fruitless," he said, keeping a farce of annoyance rather than letting himself be scared. "You could have at least waited until I was out of the meeting. I needed to be there. I was talking with Canada and he was saying there has been an influx of people coming from America, so much so that they've had to close their borders except to those who can provide something that Canada needs. America's economy is collapsing again, and I needed to be there to help find a solution." He sighed and stared off past Edgar. He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but deep down he was worried about the younger nation.

"Stop," Edgar growled. "Stop talking about ___him_. You shouldn't be worrying about him, you should be worrying about yourself."

"Why? My economy is staying up alright. Not completely, but I'm not having people rebel against the PM enough to incite talk of a civil war."

Edgar was getting more furious by the second, quickly spiraling into an uncontrollable rage. "That's not what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "Besides, I don't care if his economy collapses, or if there's a civil war. In fact, I'd be glad for it. Then I can kill him and become his country's personification. Then you can love me instead!"

"Stop being so dramatic, Edgar!" England didn't shout or raise his voice in any way. But his tone was firm and Edgar quieted immediately. "I'm getting quite tired of this. You know deep down that I can't give you what you want, so you might as well let me go." He squirmed a little in his bonds, but they were quite secure. "What sort of revenge is this anyway? I get to lay here, naked, until the day you die? Until my country collapses? That's not exactly the best laid plan. Not only will ___my _country come for me, but so will the rest of my allies. We're a tight knit bunch. I may not be popular, but I'm still one of them, and they will track me down and kill you."

Edgar's face split into a wicked smile. "Oh, this is not my revenge. This is only the set up for my revenge. I plan to put you and Alfred through the pain you've put me through."

England kept his face cool even though he felt a prickle of fear in his heart. Much as he'd like to bluff that America wouldn't come, he knew how the blonde nation was when it came to rescue missions. "How?"

"I torture you, make him watch, and then offer a trade. Then I torture him, make you watch, and then switch again and again until the day I die. But the catch is, nobody leaves once they get here."

"You don't want to do that," England said softly, eyes marginally wider than before. "He might not be brilliant, but he is quite the brawn. He could and would kill you with a finger if he got the chance. And you won't be able to keep him down. No matter how many times you kill him it's physically impossible to get him to stay that way."

"We'll see." There was a noise behind him and Edgar looked up, "Well, looks like it's time for the fun to begin. What do you say, dear sweet Alfred?"

"E-England?"

"America?" England was forcefully rolled over so he was facing the opposite wall. There was a large screen on the wall there with a camera pointed straight at him, and when the Brit spoke, the other nation turned around, seeming to stare right at him. There must have been a camera and screen set up wherever America was so they could see each other. Actually, that place looked familiar...

"Artie! Good to see you still have skin," America said, cheerful even in the face of a crisis. "Are you okay? Everyone's pretty worried. Most of the others fled home. Francy-Pants and Matt are behind me."

"Yes, I'm fine. But you should leave! It's danger-..." Suddenly England recognized where he was. "You're in my flat! How did you get in there?!"

"Huh?" America turned back around and laughed. "Oh! France has a key, and I'm very good at lock-picking. Remember when you locked me in my room and then left and the door was locked when you got back, but someone had eaten all of the pie? It was me. It was so funny, because I was the only one home, and you were so confused! Oh, and Mattie has Kuma and he could chew through the door easily."

England would have rubbed a hand over his face if he could have. "Please tell me you used the key."

"Course!"

"Remind me to change the locks, again."

"Sure thing, Papa," he reverted to the old nickname just to get under England's skin.

"That's what you call the Frog! I am ___not _your Papa!"

"Enough!" Edgar shouted. "It's time for my revenge." Edgar said while pulling a knife up from the floor. He slid the cold metal over the bare skin of England's neck, not yet drawing blood.

"Hey, who is that guy? What is he doing?!" America's carefree exterior broke as he watched helplessly. "England!"

"America, run!" Edgar suddenly pressed hard and blood welled up around the silver of the blade.

Anger flashed in America's too blue eyes and Edgar laughed loudly, running the blade down England's skin, making him scream.

* * *

**Thanks to my new Beta SailorXStar this is already 10000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 000000000000000000000000000000000000 times better than my last Captured. I started that one a long time ago, and I dislike it very very much, so I've started over. I hope this won't be too horrible enjoy ladies, gents, and personifications... 3**


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